


It Makes A Change From The Day Job

by Small_Hobbit



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 08:52:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2061822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victor Trevor is unexpectedly back from his work and so ends up helping Sherlock with his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Makes A Change From The Day Job

**Author's Note:**

> Written for not_victor as part of the Tumblr Viclock gift exchange.
> 
> Many thanks to Impishtubist for her beta work.

Sherlock was engrossed in an experiment when he heard the key in the lock of 221B. He looked up, instantly on the alert. The only people he was aware had a key were Mrs Hudson and Greg Lestrade. It was too late in the evening for it to be Mrs Hudson, unless there was a client, and he had not heard a knock on the front door. And Greg would have texted to say he was on his way, which ruled him out too.

The door swung open and at once Sherlock’s wary expression changed to one of delight. He got up from his seat and went to embrace the man at the door.

“Victor! I wasn’t expecting you to be back yet.”

“Bee! I wasn’t expecting to be back. Couldn’t stay where I was though, so made a rapid exit.”

Sherlock released him from the hug to inspect him critically. He was reassured though; Victor’s suit, although it looked as if it had been worn constantly for the last two days, didn’t show any outward signs of damage, so it should mean that the suit’s wearer was also relatively unscathed.

Victor laughed. “It’s okay, there’s nothing more than a few small bruises and minor scratches.”

“I shall reserve judgement until I’ve had time to inspect you more thoroughly.”

“I intend to run myself a bath, so you can do so shortly. And you can also tell me about the cases you’re currently working on.”

Later, when Victor was asleep, Sherlock slipped out of their bed and went back to finish his experiment. Victor had been awake for at least the past thirty-six hours, Sherlock calculated, and wasn’t likely to wake any time soon. He’d dozed off twice in the bath, and had made no objection when Sherlock had suggested they go to bed. Sherlock wasn’t tired, but he knew from past experience that Victor would settle into a deep sleep much faster if he had the assurance that his partner was with him.

The result of the experiment was inconclusive and Sherlock realised that he would need more mud samples before he could proceed further. This was annoying, but would have to wait for the following day. Normally he wouldn’t have thought twice about going out to collect samples from beside the Thames at one in the morning, but with Victor back this was out of the question. Sherlock thought briefly about texting Greg to arrange to bring some over, but decided the probability of receiving a civil reply to his perfectly reasonable request was very low.

The following morning, Victor was still asleep when Sherlock woke. He spent a couple of hours working on his laptop whilst waiting to hear sounds of movement from the bedroom before making some coffee. He took the mugs into the bedroom and smiled at Victor, who looked back at him lazily.

“Solved the case?” Victor asked, taking the mug.

“Not yet, there are too many imponderables at the moment. I need more data and I’ll have to talk to Greg again. He should be heading into the Yard about now, so if I leave soon I can catch him before he goes into a meeting and doesn’t have time to see me.”

“Why don’t you ask him over here?”

“Thought you might appreciate some peace.”

“No, I’m fine. I slept well – I always do when you’re with me, Bee, and raring to go. You never know, I might even be able to help with the case.”

Sherlock sent Greg a text, telling him his presence was required and to bring breakfast with him. Accordingly, twenty minutes later Greg arrived holding a carrier bag full of pastries and speciality bread rolls. Victor made some more coffee and then the three of them sat round the table and discussed the case. Sherlock insisted on demonstrating various ideas whilst holding a croissant in his hand and thereby dropping crumbs everyone. He ignored Victor’s remark that someone would have to clear up afterwards and continued to emphasise his points with pastry crumbs.

Greg agreed that the simplest way to prove their suspect’s guilt was with the mud on his shoes, but still refused to arrange for one of his officers to provide Sherlock with some. He did, however, give permission for Sherlock to go back to the still cordoned off crime scene and collect some for himself.

After Greg had left Sherlock noticed Victor putting on dark jeans and a black hoodie.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m coming with you,” Victor replied. “I shall have to leave again in a few days, to try to tie up some of the loose ends, so I am going to spend as much time with you as possible until then. You don’t expect me to wear a suit to collect mud do you?”

“Mycroft would!”

“Mycroft wouldn’t go anywhere near anything that would get his shoes even remotely dirty. He’s probably got a minion to expressly act out the Sir Walter Raleigh role and lay down a cloak whenever he approaches a puddle.”

“True! Well, if you’re ready, let’s get going.”

***

The constable on duty had let Sherlock through the cordon and after a slight hesitation had let Victor through too. He wasn’t entirely convinced it was okay, but felt that if anyone was mad enough to follow Holmes then he deserved whatever happened to befall him. That area of the river was known to catch the unwary out, but the man looked as if he could take care of himself.

Victor followed Sherlock as he walked along the edge of the river. Every ten paces he stopped to take another mud sample. They had rounded a slight bend when something caught Victor’s attention and he grabbed Sherlock and pulled him behind a half-disintegrated breakwater. From their hiding place they could hear three men’s voices, discussing the landing of a boat at high tide that night.

Sherlock made as if to move closer to the men, but Victor pulled him back and indicated that they should scramble up the river bank and alert the authorities that way. They had made it most of the way up when Sherlock dislodged a stone which bounced down, hitting an abandoned tin can as it fell.

Instantly the men stopped talking and one of them began to walk towards the breakwater where Sherlock and Victor had been hiding. Calmly Victor picked up another stone and threw it at the can, followed by a second which went wide and a third which hit the can again.

They heard the man shout “Clear off, you bloody kids!” and then saw him turn to rejoin his companions.

Once they were further inland Sherlock phoned Greg and told him what they had discovered, before they headed back to 221B where he could continue his experiments.

By midway through the afternoon Sherlock had gathered sufficient evidence to prove the suspect had been in the vicinity, and he emailed the details through. Victor had been alternately reading and watching Sherlock at work. He put his book down and called Sherlock to join him on the settee. Once Sherlock had joined him, Victor began to massage his shoulder muscles. Sherlock practically purred in contentment.

“If we’re going out tonight, then we should have something to eat soon,” Victor said.

“Who said anything about going out?”

“You’re planning on joining the police operation at the river tonight.”

“Hmph! I’m not hungry though.”

“Maybe not, but I am, so we are going to eat. I don’t suppose you’ve got anything edible in the kitchen, so I shall ask Mrs Hudson for a couple of eggs and some vegetables and make us an omelette and some stir fry.”

Sherlock muttered something about never eating whilst on a case, but Victor ignored this; whatever Sherlock might say he always ate anything that Victor cooked for him.

After they had eaten Sherlock said “Shall I play for you?”

“Yes, please.”

Victor settled back on the settee and listened as Sherlock played a medley of tunes to him. Some Victor recognised as the themes from famous classical pieces, others he presumed were more modern, whilst still others were compositions of Sherlock’s own. He listened as the music spoke of times apart and times together, until Sherlock drew to a close with the sounds of a chase and Victor knew that it was time to leave.

***

When they reached the river they were greeted by Greg, who told them that Inspector Bradstreet was in charge of the operation, and that he and his team were there as back up. Sherlock looked as if he was going to try and push his way onto the front line, but Victor put a restraining hand on his arm and he grunted in acknowledgement and settled down to wait.

About quarter of an hour later Greg’s phone rang and he was given the ominous message, “Man down. Suspects heading towards you.”

His team grabbed their spotlights in the aim of picking out anyone making their way across the wasteland. The area was covered in scrubby bushes, which would provide sufficient cover for a person not wishing to be seen. Greg ordered his team to concentrate their efforts on the most likely areas, whilst at the same time maintaining their own safety.

Sherlock followed close behind Greg and suddenly realised that Victor wasn’t with them. A gunshot caused him to turn round. Greg turned too and shone his torch in the direction the noise had come from, just in time to see someone leap out from behind the bushes and pinion the gunman to the ground. They ran over to find Victor efficiently tying the gunman’s hands behind his back with his own belt. Victor hauled the man to his feet and pushed him in Greg’s direction.

“He’s all yours,” Victor said. “I’d appreciate it if you kept me out of this; I don’t want my employer thinking I’ve been moonlighting.”

“Not a problem,” Greg replied. “Thank you for your assistance.”

The third man having also been captured, Sherlock and Victor left Greg and Bradstreet to the paper work and headed back to 221B. Once there Victor opened a bottle of wine, Sherlock put on a CD and they waltzed around the sitting room, wine glass in hand.


End file.
